The moon is full again,
My inner witch has gone hunting.
Her wilderness is drier then ever,
And she's drowning her hunger in potions.

Flying around in the black and shiny coated desert;
Longing for someone to grasp,
To outburst into some essence,
Something other then the abyss she's in

When she's in me...

And she's dying of loneliness,
Poisoning my emptied soul
With black clouds of solitude
And the scarlet blood of lost men.

And so I surrender in helplessness.
Together we fall;
Down the blackest shadows,
Through the freezing dry breeze.
With her holding me tight
And I just can't stop staring at the moon...